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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



014 220 365 O^j 



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@mpliments of 

• GEN'L EDWARD JARDINE. 









THREE DAYS REIGN OF TERROR, 

— oi>> — 

The July Riots 

in 1B63, - 















/ 






IN NEW YORK. 



E.\\e.n , Ucun^Til I 







THRLE DAYS REIGN OF TERROR, 

OR 

THE JULY RIOTS IN i863 

IN NEW YORK. 



FROM HARPER'S MAGAZINE, JANUARY, 1867. 



On the tenth of July. 1808. my mother and myself arrived 

in the city of New York. "We had set out on a grand tour of 
visitation. After vegetating year after year in a New England 
village, we had sallied forth in genuine country fashion to 
hunt up our kinsfolk in various parts of the land. "We were 
in no hurry. We had the whole summer before us. We 
wished to avoid crowds, noise, and excitement, to stop when- 
ever we pleased, as long as we chose, and have a slow r , old- 
fashioned, socialable, sensible journey. Thus far our tranquil 
visions had been more than realized. For three weeks we bad 
been loitering placidly along our way, and nothing had oc- 
curred to mar our tranquility. We hoped now to spend a few 
days quietly with brother J., call on various friends and 
relatives, visit Central Park and a lion or so, shop a little, and 
move onward at our leisure. 

But man proposes and Fate disposed, and nothing in New 
York turned out as we expected. Instead of visiting our 
friends and meandering leisurely about the city, we were 
caught in a mob and penned up in our first stopping- place. 
From the first moment of our arrival everything went wrong. 
J. did not meet us at the boat as he had promised, and we had 
to find our way without him in a drizzling rain. The streets 
were dark, dirty, and crowded with ill-looking people. The 
whole city was enveloped in a fog and gloom. The home 
regiments had gone to drive the rebels from Pennsylvania, and 
many hearts were trembling. The household which received 
us had its full share of anxiety. Its youngest member, a 



youth of seventeen, had gone with the volunteers, and other 
friends were in the Army of the Potcmae. The disappointing 
brother, too, was employed on a sad mission, helping a friend 
to Gettysburg to find the body of a slain brother; so that 
within doors we found it as dismal as without, and our first 
impressions of the great city were any thing but cheering. 

Onr prospect was limited to two rows of brick houses and 
a broad expanse of house-roofs from our room in the upper 
story. ''Nobody was in town," but the streets were jammed 
with carts and children, and the noise and clatter were 
incessant and deafening. The weather continued most op- 
pressive, Low, dingy clouds possessed the sky, and not a 
breath of fresh air was attainable. I thought New York a 
most dectestable summer residence, and resolved to leave it as 
soon as possible. 

On the third morning of our sojourn, however, the sky 
brightened. The sun attempted to shine, and the papers 
brought good tidings. Lee was retreating, Meade pursuing, 
the Potomac rising, and oiu- spirits rose with it. At breakfast 
Central Park was moved and cariied by acclamation; but soon 
some pattering rain-drops brought out an opposition, which 
induced us to defer our jaunt till settled weather. So we 
scattered in various directions— J. down town, and I to Broad- 
way. But even there I could see nothing attractive. Every 
thing looked hot, glaring, and artificial, and every body looked 
shabby, jaded, and care-worn. An overworked horse dropped 
dead in the street before me, and I was glad to take refuge for 
a time in the Astor Library. 

Returning thence at mid-day I first saw signs of disturb- 
ance. A squad of policemen passed before me into Third 
Avenue, clerks were looking eagerly from the doors, and men 
whispering in knots all up and down the street; but I was too 
much a stranger to be certain that these appearances were un- 
usual though they annoyed me so much that I crossed at once 
to Second Avenue, along which I pursued my way peacefully, 
and once at home thought no more of it. We were indulging 
ourselves in siestas after our noonday lunch, when a great 



3 

roaring suddenly burst upon our ears — a howling as of 
thousands of wild Indians let loose at once; and before we 
could look out or collect our thoughts at all the cry arose from 
every quarter, "The mob! the mob!" "The Irish have risen 
to resist the draft !" 

In a second my head was ont the window, and I saw it 
with my own eyes. We were on a cross-street between First 
and Second Avenues. First Avenue was crowded as far as we 
could see it with thousands of infuriated creatures, yelling, 
screaming, and swearing in the most frantic manner ; while 
crowds of women, equally ferocious, were leaning from every 
door and window, swinging aprons and handkerchiefs, and 
cheering and urging them onward. The rush and roar grew 
every moment more terrific. Up came fresh hordes faster and 
more furious; bareheaded men, with red, swollen faces, 
brandishing sticks and clubs, or carrying heavy poles and 
beams; and boys, women, and children hurrying on and join- 
ing with them in this mad chase up the avenue like a company 
of raging fiends. In the hurry and tumult it was impossible 
to distinguish individuals, but all seemed possessed alike with 
sawage hate and fury. The most dreadful rumors flew through 
the street, and we heard from various sources the events of the 
morning. The draft had been resisted, buildings burned, 
twenty policemen killed, and the remainder utterly routed and 
discomfited; the soldiers were absent, and the mob triumphant 
and increasing in numbers and violence every moment. 

Oiir neighborhood was in the greatest excitement. The 
whole population turned out at once, gazing with terror and 
consternation on the living stream passing before them, surg- 
ing in countless numbers through the avenue, and hurrying up 
town to join those already in action. Fresh yells and shouts 
announced the union of forces, and bursting flames their 
accelerated strength and fury. The armory on Twenty -second 
street was broken open, sacked, and flred, and the smoke and 
flames rolled up directly behind us. 

With breathless interest we watched their rapid progress 
till diverted by a new terror. Our own household had been 



4 

invaded. My brothers wife was gone: no one knew whither. 
Above and below we looked in vain for her. We could could 
only learn that a note had been brought to her just before her 
disappearance. What could have happened? At such times 
imagination is swift and mystery unsupportable. We were 
falling into a terrible panic, and devising all manner of 
desperate expedients, when the wanderer appeared, looking 
very heroic, accompanied by J., all bloody and wounded. He 
had been attacked by the mob while passing a little too 
near them, knocked down, terribly beaten, and robbed of 
watch and pocketbook. Reality for once had outstripped 
imagination. For a time all our attention was absorbed in 
him. The wounds, though numerous, were happily not of a 
dangerous character. The gang which attacked him, attracted 
by his little tri-colored badge of loyalty, were fortunately only 
armed with light fence pickets; so that from loss of blood, and 
badly cut aud bruised in head, limbs, and body, no serious 
consequences seemed likely to result from his injuries. 

Outdoors, meanwhile, all was clamor and tumult. Bells 
were tolling in every quarter. The rioters were still howling 
in Twenty-second street, and driving the firemen from the 
burning armory. The building fell and the flames sunk, and 
then darkness came all at once and shut out every thing. We 
gather gloomily around my brother in the back-parlor. An 
evening paper was procured, but brought no comfort. It 
only showed more clearly the nature and extent of this fearful 
outbreak. It only told us that the whole city was as helpless 
and anxious as ourselves. Many were in far greater danger, 
for obscurity is sometimes safety; but the black, lowering 
night, and the disabled condition of our only male protector, 
oppressed us heavily. Our neighborhood was all alive. Men 
tramped incessantly through the street, aDd women chatted 
and scolded in the windows; children cried and cats squalled; 
a crazy man in the rear raved fiercely for Jeff Davis and the 
Southern Confederacy ; but over every other sound every few 
moment the bell rang out the alarm of some new fire. Some 
were very near ; some at a distance. We would start and 
count the district, and tremble for the Tribune or the Arsenal. 



Thus passed the eve, till at last we separated and tried to 
compose ourselves to rest; but who could sleep with such 
terrors around them? That fiery mass of frenzied creatures 
which had passed so near us in the afternoon was raging some- 
where in the city, and that frightful roar and rush might any 
moment burst again upon our ears. They might sweep through 
our street and scatter every thing before them. Fires kindled 
by them illumined many parts of the city. 

As the clocks struck twelve a great shout startled me, and 
a light flamed up before me. A huge bonfire had been kindled 
in the middle of the street not far below us. Wild forms were 
dancing about it, and piling on fresh fuel. Great logs and 
beams and other combustibles were dragged up and heaped 
upon it. Sleep, now, was of course impossible. From a seat 
in an upper window I saw it rise and fall, flame up and fade. 
Was it a plaything or a signal? In either case I dared not 
leave it. A gang of noisy boys gathered around it. "Bring 
out Horace Greely!' one was called. At last, after two hours' 
watching a*nd wondering, a heavy shower put out the tires and 
drove the rioters homeward. Dark figures slunk to darker 
anes and hovels, and rest and quiet fell on the distracted city. 

At break of day it roused again. Another cloudy, foggy, 
warm, oppresixe morning. Very early I resumed my post >f 
observation. A black, charred mound loomed up below, and 
cinders, smoke, and soot filled the air and encrusted every 
object. Rough-looking men were already astir. A car passed 
down the avenue crowded inside and out: another passed; 
another, and no more. No rattling carts were heard, no 
shrieking milkmen. All ordinary sights and nuds were 
missing. Soon hordes of ragged children attacked the heap 
of rubbish in the street. Little fair-haired girls and tcddling 
boys bore off great armfuls of sticks and brands. Meanwhile 
the larger children, great boys, grown women, had hurried off 
to the smoking ruins in Twenty-second street, and returned 
laden with spoils. Charred beams, baskets of coal, iron rails, 
muskets, and market- barrels were carried by in vast quantities. 
The "dangerous classes" were evidently wide awake. 



6 

Our household meanwhile bestirred itself slowly. J. had 
rested little, but was free from fever or any alarming symp- 
toms. Much time was spent in dressing his wounds, and some 
in preparing breakfast. There was no milk, no ice to be had, 
and meat and bread were on the wane; and so I ventured out 
with my sister H. for supplies. We found our street full of 
people, excitement, and rumors. Men and boys ran past us 
with muskets in their hands. We heard that a tight was in 
progress above Twenty-second street. The mob had seized a 
gun-factory and many muskets; but the police had driven them 
off and taken back part of their plunder. It was cheering to 
find that the police were still alive. Second Avenue was 
densely thronged, but no cars were running. A great crowd 
surrounded the ruins of the Armory and blackened the Twen- 
ty-second street crossing. Men talked in low, excited tones, 
and seemed afraid of each other. The stores were mostly 
closed and business suspended^ With difficulty we procured 
supplies of provisions and a newspaper; but percussion caps 
and ammunition were stoutly denied us. No one dared to 
admit that they kept any such articles lest the rioters shoidd 
take them away by force. A friendly bookseller at last sup- 
plied us. He had been out in disguise, he said, and heard 
the rioters boasting among themselves. One said he had 
made a hundred dollars already, and now he had arms and 
meant to use them. All the shops on the avenue had been 
threatened. The mob were gathering in great force in our 
vicinity, and things looked every moment more threatening; 
ho we hurried home as fast as possible, and I took my post 
again at the window. 

New and strange sights met my eyes. Such multitudes 
of people every where; filling street and sidewalks, crowding 
all the doors and windows, the balconies and roofs of the 
houses. Many were merely spectators, some not far distant 
were actors. In the First avenue the crowd was now very 
dense and clamarous. The liquor store on the corner was 
thronged with villainous-looking customers, and the women 
who had welcomed the mob on their first appearance were 



again talking loudly as if urging them on to action. "Die at 
home!" was the favorite watchword which often reached onr 
ears. Every thing indicated that a collision was approaching. 
We caught, after a time, a glimpse of soldiers, and heard the 
welcome rattle of musketry, distant at first, then nearer and 
nearer. The soldiers marched to and through Twenty- second 
street and turned down First avenue. The mob yelled and 
howled and stood their ground. Women from the roofs threw 
stones and brickbats upon the soldiers. Then came the 
volleys; the balls leaped out and the mob gave way at once 
and fled in every direction. A great crowd rushed through 
our street, hiding in every nook and corner. W e closed doors 
and blinds, but still peeped out of the windows. The soldiers 
marched slowly back up the avenue, firing along the way; 
crossed over into Second avenue, marched down opposite our 
street and fired again. Again the mob scattered, and 
scampered in droves through the street. Yet another volley', 
and balls came tearing down the centre of our street right be- 
fore us, dashing along the pavements and carrying off frames 
from the trees. A boy on the sidewalk opposite was struck: 
he fell in a pool of blood, and was carried away to die. The 
streets were now cleared, the crowds had vanished, the soldiers 
withdrew, and the mob was quelled. For two hours peace 
and quiet prevailed. Our neigbors retired to their several 
abodes. We took dinner by gas-light with closed blinds, and 
nattered ourselves that the worst was over. 

But as night came on the sun came out, and men crawled 
out into sight again. A stranger on horseback rode slowly up 
the street. Crowds quickly gathered around him. Swarms 
rushed out of the old liquor store and from all the neighboring 
alleys, and greeted him with shouts and cheers. We saw him 
waving his hat and haranguing the multitude, and heard their 
storm of response, but could catch no words. Great bustle 
and preparation followed. Women were foremost among them, 
inciting and helping. The rider slunk off eastward as he came, 
while men formed in bands and marched off down the avenue. 
A squad of lads, decentby clad and armed, marched down our 



8 

street end joined those on the corner, were received with loud 
cheers, and sent on after the others. 

The sun set clear, and a beautiful night came on; a radi- 
ant midsummer night, but darker to us than the preceding. 
Dark skies seemed more in harmony with the scenes around 
us, and the contrast only deepened the gloom. The papers 
brought no encouragement. Fearful deeds of atrocity were 
recorded. The mob were increasing in power and audacity, 
and the city was still paralyzed and panic struck. The small 
military force available could only protect a few important po- 
sitions, leaving the greater part defenceless. Our inflammable 
neighborhood was wholly at the mercy of the mob. Again 
with heavy hearts we assembled in the back-parlor and dis- 
cussed probabilities an 1 contingencies. Our position on the 
very edge of one of the worst of the "infected districts" had in 
it. after all. one element of security; the mob could not touch 
us without endangering some oi their friends. The incessant 
din and clamor without were little calculated to strengthen our 
courage. The warm, bright nght set every evil thing in mo- 
tion, and man and beast conspired to till the air with all 
mariner of hi leous and discordant sounds. The tramping, 
scolding, screaming, squalling, and raving of the preceding 
night were repeated and intensified. Cats and dogs squalled 
and howled, bells rang incessantly, and mingled with all these 
sounds came at intervals the most mournful of all, the long- 
drawn piercing wails of Irishwomen bemoaning their dead. 

Worn out with listeniag we resolved at last to try to rest, 
I made up a bundle, put my clothes in running order, read the 
most comforting Psalms I could find, and laid myself down to 
sleep. Scarcely had my head touched the pillow when a new 
alarm of lire sounded. Lights streamed through the door of 
my room and illumined the houses opposite. "Another tire in 
Twenty-second Street!" was the cry. The police station had 
been set on fire, and volumes of smoke and flame were rising 
again very near us. From the rear window we saw it all with 
the utmost distinctness; heard the roaring and crackling, and 
felt the heat of the flames. Soon they wrappid the house and 



9 

caught the adjacent tire-tower, whose bell was clamoring even 
now for aid. The mob yelled with delight, and drove off the 
eager firemen. The flames soon wreathed the tower and rose 
in majestic columns. The whole neighborhood was flooded 
with light. Thousands of spectators gazed upon the scene, 
crowning the housetops as with statues of living fire. The 
blazing turret shook and reeled, beams snapped and parted, 
and the bell plunged heavily downward, "tolling the death 
knell of its own decease;" but its dying notes were lost in the 
triumphant shouts of the mob maddened by their success. We 
heard them hurrying on to the gas-works, leaving the waning 
fires at last to the firemen. We could hear them pounding 
and shaking the gates, swearing at their inability to force 
them, and then rushing off again for some easier prey. 

The fires were now quite subdued, and we ventured to 
return to our several rooms. It was past midnight, but the 
city was still wide awake. The streets were thronged, and the 
opposite houses were all open and brilliantly lighted. They 
belonged to the better class of tenement houses, and their oc- 
cupants, though not themselves rioteis, so far sympathized 
with them as evidently to feel no fear of them. Many were 
chatting at this time about the doors and windows with a care 
less merriment which I could not but envy. I gave a parting 
look up and down the street, and again sought my pillow. 
The tramping in the street gradually subsided, the din and 
discord slowly died away, and a slight stupor was stealing 
gently over me, when a sudden rush and scream brought me 
again in an instant to my window. There was a spring and a 
chase, and then such piercing, thrilling cries as words cannot 
describe. I could see nothing. Not a person was in sight; 
but from the vicinity of that wretched liquor store I distinctly 
heard dreadful cries, and caught these broken words: "Oh, 
brothers! brothers! Save me! save me!" 

The soiinds thrilled through the opposite and nearer 
houses. Lights quivered and wavered, and doors were shut 
hastily. The cries and groans continued. There were con- 
fused sounds as of dragging and lifting, and then silence. A 



10 

mist had veiled the stars, and darkness fallen upon the street. 
Our noisy neighbors were struck dumb. Every door and win 
dow was closed, and every light extinguished. I trembled 
from head to foot, and could scarcely grope my way to the 
back chamber. Part of our household were still watching 
there, more bells were tolling, and three new fires were raging. 
Destruction and death were on every side. 

Again I returned to my old position in the window, and 
peered out into the darkness. All things looked ghostly and 
ghastly. The houses opposite were dissolved in mist. I 
seemed to see through them far down into the heart of the 
city, and heard in the distance the roar as of great multitudes 
in commotion. What was passing I could not tell, but any 
thing and every thing seemed possible at this hour. "Would 
the night ever end, or any thing be left should morning come ? 
Once only the welcome report of musketry reached my ears. 
At last the glimmering of dawn appeared. The mistdis- 
solved; the wandering house came back to position; the street 
resumed its old familiar look, and men and boys their cease- 
less tramp, tramp, tramp. 

One of these men stopped across the way, and said, in a 
low, scared tone to some one in the house: "They hung a 

Massachusetts over there last night." One word was lost 

to me— what it was I can only conjecture: but whether citizen, 
soldier, or negro, I do not doubt that some poor fellow very 
near us met the fate of so many others in those day of terror: 
and though his name and story may never be known on earth, 
his cries for help will surely rise up in judgment against his 
murderers. 

But another day had come, Wednesday, July 1 5th. A 
long, bright, blazing midsummer day was before us. There 
was little change in the aspect of affairs without. The city 
was not all burned down, we found. The newspapers were 
still alive, and insisting that more troops were on hand and 
the mob checked; but we saw no signs of it. The morning 
indeed passed more quietly. The rioters were resting from 
the labors of the night; but business was not resumed, and 



11 

swarms of idle men still hung about the streets and stores. 
No cars were running in the avenues, no carts in the streets. 
No milkman came, and no meatmen, and not a soldier or 
policeman showed his head. 

The day dragged on heavily. There was little to be seen, 
and nothing to be done but write letters that could not be 
sent, and wonder at our situation. Little had we thought 
that our quiet pilgrimage would lead us to such turbulent and 
tempestuous scenes. All our plans had been brought to 
nought. Visiting, shopping, sight seeing, were not even to be 
considered. All ordinary pursuits, and pleasures had ceased, 
social intercourse was given up, and nothing remained but 
chaos and confusion. We heard but the vaguest reports of 
the doings of the city, and still less of the outer world. The 
war at the door drowned the battle afar off. 

It was most humiliating, it was almost incredible, that 
such a state of things should exist in the heart of a civilized 
and Christian community. "Was this your joyous city, whose 
merchants were princes, whose traffickers were among the 
honorable of the earth ?" Could it be that this great city, the 
pride and boast of the nation, was trampled down and held 
under the feet of these mad rioters? She seemed utterly 
prostrate and helpless. Her vast treasures, her immense 
store-houses, her long lines of palaces, her great multitudes of 
citizens, were bound and offered up for sacrifice. The whole 
nation was trambling and terror struck. No one could see 
when and where it would terminate. 

Flight seemed the only refuge. Could not we, wearied 
travelers, at least steal away to some green nook and be at 
rest? We discussed plans and dismissed them. Nothing 
seamed feasible. There were no cars and no carriages, and no 
one to help us to them. J., though improving, was still unable 
to go out, and we were unwilling to leave him and his family 
in such circumstances. W T e were bound, hand and foot, in 
this miserable neighborhood, unable to stir out of doors, and 
with the prospect of another night of horrors. 



12 

The day, though quieter than the proceeding, was far 
more irksome. The brick walls and glaring streets, the heat, 
confusion, and confinement were intolerably weariscme. The 
sun blazed more and more fiercely. The stillness was op- 
pressive and ominous. It seemed the calm before a storm. 
Already clouds were gathering in the horizon. As night 
approached we heard drums beating, and gangs of rioters 
marched up their favorite avenue. The whole population 
bestirred itself at once. Men, women, and children rushed 
out cheering and clamoring, some hurrying on with the crowd, 
some hanging around the corner. Many soon returned, laden 
with spoil — bedding, clothing, and furniture. The crowd 
increased rapidly in the street and around the liquor stoie. 
Great excitement prevailed. There was loud talking with 
fierce gestures. Some ran thither with fire arms, some with 
poles and boards. Then some one shouted. "They are coming!" 
and a small band of soldiers appeared matching up our street. 
The mob seemed to swell into vast dimensions, and densely 
filled the whole street before them. Hundreds hurried out < n 
the house-tops, tore up brickbats, and hurled them with savage 
howls at the approaching soldiers. Shots were tired from 
secret ambushes, and soldiers fell before they had fired. 
Then they charged bravely into the mob, but their force was 
wholly inadequate. A fierce conflict raged before our eyes. 
With breathless interest we watched them from door and 
windows. Y\ e feared the soldiers would be swallowed up and 
annihilated. Some now appeared in sight with a wounded 
officer^ General E. Jardine, New YorkJ and several wounded 
men, looking from side to side for shelter. Their eyes met 
ours with mute appeal. There was no time to be lost; the 
mob might any moment be upon them. There was a moment's 
consultation, a hasty reference to J., an unhesitating response: 
Yes, by all means;" we beckened them iD, and in they came. 
Doors and windows were at once closed, and the house became 
a hospital, and seemed filled with armed men. The wounded 
men were carried into my brother's room; the Colonel was laid 
on the bed, and the others propped up with pillows. There 
were a few moments of great commotion and confusion. We 



13 

flew for fans, ire water, and bandages. Some of the soldiers 
went out into the fight again, and some remained with the 
wounded. Dr. J. P. P. White, New York, a surgeon, who had 
volunteered as a private under his old commander, dressed 
the wounds of the sufferers. The Colonel was severally 
wounded in the thigh by a slug made of a piece of lead pipe, 
producing a compound fracture. The wounds of two others, 
though less dangerous, were severe and painful. 

Twilight was now upon us, and night rapidly approaching. 
The soldiers had been forced to retreat, leaving the mob in 
great force and fury. We heard them shouting and raving on 
the corner, and knew that we were in great danger. Already 
they were clamoring for the wounded soldiers who had escaped 
them. We thought of Colonel O'Brien's fate, and could not 
suppress the thought that our own house might be made the 
seene of a like tragedy. Could we defend ourselves if at- 
tacked? A hurried consultation was held. We had arms and 
ammunition, and. including J. and the slighly wounded 
soldiers, half a dozen men able and willing to use ihem. But 
we could not "'man our lines." We were open to attack at 
once from the front and rear, the roof, the front basement, and 
the balcony above it. We might, indeed, retreat to the upper 
stories, barricade the stairway, and hold it against all the as- 
sailants that could crowd into the hall. But if they chose to 
fire the house below we could not prevent it, and then there 
would be no escape either for our wounded or ourselves. 

The Colonel promptly decided the question; resistance 
was hopeless, could only make the case worse, and must not be 
attempted. Not only so, but all signs of the presence of 
soldiers must be removed. Arms, military appared, and 
bloody clothing were accordingly concealed. The Colonel 
was conveyed to the cellar and placed on a mattress. The 
young soldier, next to him most severely wounded, was assisted 
up to the rear apartment on the upper floor and placed in 
charge of my mother and myself. The soldiers who had 
remained were then ordered to make their escape from the 
house as they best could, and to hasten to headquarters with 



14 

an urgent request that a force might be sent to our relief. 
The surgeon was also requested to go. but would not listen to 
the suggestion. He had been regimental surgeon for two 
years under the Colonel, and insisted on remaining by his t^ide. 
to take care of him, and to share his fate whatever it might be. 
He took his post, therefore, in the cellar, extemporizing as well 
as he could some scanty means of concealment for both from 
the boxes and bins w r hich it contained. The remaining 
soldier, though severely wounded in the foot, conld yet walk 
with pain and difficulty; and it was decided that, as soon as it 
should be safe or necessary, he should try the chances of 
escape through the scuttle and over the roofs of the adjoining 
buildings. 

J., with his bandaged head and disabled arm, was liable 
to be taken for a wounded soldier, and his wife and her sister, 

Mrs. P- , insisted that he also should betake himself to the 

roof. He could render no material assistance if he remained; 
on the other hand, his presence might precipitate a scene of 
violence which would not be offered to ladies alone. They did 
not feel tha' they were personally in danger- so far there was 
no report that the lawless violence of the rioters had been 
directed against women; and if he could get away he might be 
the means of bringing speedier relief. Very reluctantly he 
yielded to these considerations, and prepared to aceonpany 
the wounded soldier. The mother of the household took refuge 
in her room on the second floor. To her daughter in-law, wife 
of an absent son, was assigned a post of observation at a front 
window. The two heroic women, H. and her sister, remained 
below to confront the mob. 

Of all these arrangements, made mostly after we had as- 
sumed the charge assigned us we at the time knew nothing. 
In utter darkness and desolation we sat above by the bedside 
of our soldier, receiving his farewell messages for his mother 
and friends, and knowing not how soon he might be torn from 
us. There was no human power to help us in this extremity; 
we could only trust in Him "who stilleth the madness of the 
people." The suspense was terrible. In the rear, as we stole 



an occasional look-out through our closed blinds, we could see 
men here and there climbing the fences; they might be rioters 
breaking out. All was confusion and uncertainly. ^ k^ 
not friends from foes. 

In front the demonstrations were still more alarming. 
The rioters had taken possession of the street, stationed a 
guard on both avenues, and were chasing up and down for 
The soldiers. Then they were seen searching from house to 
house; beginning, fortunately for us and ours, on the opposite 
side, proceeding toward Second Avenue, then crossing the 
street and coming back gradually toward us. At last they 
reached house next to ours. A few moments we waited in 
breathless silence. Then came a rush up the steps and the 
bell rang violently. Not a sound was heard through the house. 
Again and yet again the bell rang, more and more furiously. 
Heart throbbed, nerves quhered. but no one stirred Then 
came knocks, blows, kicks, threate, attempts to force the door. 
Come in they must and would nothing could stay them. 

Having gained for the retreating party all the time she 

coulw, Mrs. P at length unlocked the door, opened it 

passed out, and closing it behind her, stood face to face with 
the mob, which crowded the steps and swarmed on the side 
walk and the adjacent street. * hat could she do ? She knew 
that they wood come in, that they would search the 
house, that they would find the men; but she was determined 
not to give them up without an effort to save them. Possibly, 
in parleying with them, she might at least calm somewhat the 
fury of the passion that swayed that howling mob; possibly m 
thai brutal and maddened throng there might be a few human 
hearts in their bosoms to which she might find a way win 
them to her side, and enlist their aid no saving the lives of the 
intended victims. That was her only hope. 

"What do you want?" she asked, while the air was yet 
ringing with the cry that came up from the crowd, The 
■olLSl the soldiers?" "Bring out the soldiers ^One who 
9t00 d near and seemed tb ^J^ ^ ~ 
two soldiers went into this bouse, auu 
You must give them up." 



16 

"There icere two that came in, but went out again. They 
are not here now." 

She spoke in a low but perfectly clear and steady voice, 
that compelled attention, and the crowd hushed its ravings to 
catch her words. 

"Let us see; if they are not here we will not harm you; 
but we must search the house." 

"Wetcan not let you in: there are only women here- • some 
that are old and feeble, and the sight of such a crowd will 
frighten them to death." 

"They shall not all come in," was the reply; and after 
some further parley it was agreed that half a dozen only should 
enter and make the search. The leader gave his ordeis, the 
door was opened, and the men detailed came in; but before 
it could be closed the mob surged up, pressed in, and tilled the 
hall. Many of them were armed with the stolen carbines. 

"Light the gas!" was the cry. 

"My sister has gone for a light." 

It came, and the parley was renewed. The leader again 
demanded the soldiers: insisted that they wei« there, ami said 
it would be better for themselves if they would give them up. 
She persisted in the statement she had made. 

"She is fooling us, and using up the time while they are 
getting away by the roof!" cried one, and pressing forward 
with his musket pointrd at her, endeavored to pass her. Very 
deliberately she took hold of the muzzle and turned it aside, 
saying. "Don't do that. You know I am a woman and it 
might frighten me." 

The leader returned to the charge. "We know the men 
are here, and if you give them up to us you shall not be 
harmed. But if you do not and we find them, you know what 
a mob is. I cannot control them; your house will be burned 
over your heads, and I will not guarantee your lives for five 
minutes." 

"You will not do that," was the reply. "We are not the 



17 

kind of people whose houses you wish to bum. My only son 
works as you do, and perhaps in the same shop with some of 
you. for seventy cents a day." 

She did not tell them that her amateur apprentice boy 
had left his place to go to Pennsylvania and tight their 
friends the rebels. A young man, whom she had noticed as 
one of the few of decent appearance, stepped to her side and 
whispered to her, advising her compliance with the demand, 
assuring her that the men could not be controlled. The tone 
more than the words indicated to her that she had made one 
friend; and she found another, in the same way, a moment 
later. 

Meantime the leaders were consulting whether they 
should go first above or below, and decided on the latter. 
Stationing one man with at musket a the door, and one at the 
stairs, they proceeded, pioneered by H., first to the parlors, 
and then to the basement, thoroughly examining both. Most 
fortunately the sentinals were the two young men in whom 

Mrs. P felt she had found friends, and she was not slow to 

improve the opportunity to deepen the impression she had 
made. But now the crowd outside, thundering at the base- 
ment door, burst in the panels, and forcing it open, with 
terrible oaths and threats rushed in and filled the lower hall. 
Part joined the searching party, and some hurried up the first 
floor. One, crowding past the sentinal, was striding up the 
stairs. We heard his call to his comrades, "Come on up 
stairs!" and our hearts sank within us. But the sentinel's 
stern command, enforced by his leveled piece, brought him 
back. 

The main party, having ransacked the basement rooms, 
now turned to the cellar. In a moment a loud shout 
announced that they had found a victim. The surgeon was 
dragged up, forced out at the lower door, and delivered over 
to the crowd outside. A blow from a bludgeon or musket 
felled him to the earth, inflicting a terrrible wound on the 
head. "Hang him, hang him!" "To the post at the Twenty - 
second Street corner!" were the cries as they hurried him off. 



18 

The search within proceeded; a moment more and they had 
found the Colonel. A new and fiercer shout was sent up. An 
order from a leader thrilled through the hall, "Come down 
here some of yees wid yer muskets!" 

At the first cry from the cellar Mrs. P sprung for the 

basement, intending to make her way at any hazard; a sentinel 
stood at the head of the stairway; a stalwar brute, reeking with 
filth and whiskey. He seized her, with both arms about her 
waist, with a purpose of violence quite too evident. She 
struggled to free herself without raising an alarm, but in vain; 
then a sudden and piercing shriek, which rung through the 
house, made him for an instant relax his hold, and, wrenching 
herself away, she hurried back and sought the protection of 
the friendly sentinel. 

"He will not let me pass; I must go down." 

"You must not," he replied; "it is no place for you." 
And then he added, looking sternly at her, "You have deceived 
us. You said there was no one here, and there is. 

"I would have done the same thing for you if you had 
been wounded. Look at me; do you not believe me?" 

He did look, full in her eye, for an instant; then said: 
"Yes, I do believe it. You have done right, and I admire 
your spirit." 

"But I must go down. Go with me." 

"No; it is no place for you." 

"Then go yourself and save his life." 

And turning over his charge to the sentinel at the door, 
he did go. Meantime the searching party, having found the 
Colonel, proceeded to question him. He said he was a citizen, 
accidentally wounded, and had been obliged to seek refuge 
there. 

"Why did you hide, if you are a citizen?" 

Because, he said, he was afraid he should be taken for a 
soldier. They would not believe, but still he insisted on his 
statement. Then the muskets were sent for, and four pieces 
leveled at his head, as he lay prostrate and helpless. 

"Fire, then, if you will, on a wounded man and a citizen. 



I shall die, any how, for my wound is a mortal one. But 
before you lire I wish you would sent for a priest." 

"What, are you a Catholik?" 

"Yes." 

This staggered them; and while they were hesitating the 
sentinel joined the group, and as soon as he looked on the 
Colonel exclaimed! "I know that man. I used to go to school 
with him. He is no soldier." 

This turned the scale. The leaders were satisfied, and 
decided to let him go. But before leaving him they rifled his 
pockets; and here he narrowly escaped falling into renewed 
danger. While the parley was in progress his fingers had 
been busily occupied in quietly and coolly removing from his 
pocket a quantity of bullets which he had forgotten, and 
which, if tbey had been found, would certainly betrayed him. 

Those of the mob who had remained above, disappointed 
of their prey, with oatbs and execrations protested against the 
action of their leaders, and sent the ruffian at the head of the 
stairway down to see if it was all right. But the positive 

statements of the friendly sentinel, which Mrs. P had the 

satisfaction of hearing him rehearse, as the two met in the 
lower hall, disarmed even his suspicions, and the rest could do 
no otherwise than acquiesce. So well satisfied, indeed, were 
the leaders, and, as it is not unreasonable to suppose, so 
impressed with the resolute bearing of the two ladies, that 
they volunteered to station a guard before the door to prevent 
the annoyance of any further search. As they had found the 
two men who had been reported to them as having entered the 
house, it did not seem to occur to them that there might be 
still others concealed; and so they took their departure, leaving 
the upper stories unvisited. 

The surgeon in the meantime had been no less fortunate. 
In the crowd which hurried him off to death there happened 
to be one or two returned soldiers who had served in the same 
regiment with him, and when he came where it was light 
recognized him. They insisted on saving him, and, raising a 
party in their favor, finally prevailed, and having rescued him 
escorted him in safety to his home. 



20 

W hile these events were passing below our alaim and 
anxiety were beyond all expression. Our poor charge es- 
pecially was in the greatest distress; fgnorant of the fate of 
his Colonel and comrades, and apprehending every moment 
that he might himself be found and dragged out by the mob. 
Of course we knew but imperfectly at the time of it what was 
going on. Whe knew that the soldiers were in the house, and 
that men bent on their destruction were seeking for them. 
We heard the clamor without, the cry for "The soldiers!" the 
rush into the hall. Then we heard the calm, steady tone of 
the ladies, holding the mob in listening attention, and took 
courage. We heard the movement through the parlois and 
downward to the basement. Then came the irruption of the 
fierce crowd into the lower hall; and very soon loud cries frcni 
below told us that some one was found. It might be the 
surgeon or the Colonel; it might be my brother, for we did not 
then know that he had effected his escape. 

Again came up screams from below, ejaculations, loud 
words. Could it be that another was found ? Again the heavy 
tramp of many men, this time moving upward and talking 
eagerly and rapidly. They paused in the hall; we dared not 
move or breathe; would they come up the stairs? No! The 
door is opened, men pass out, it is closed after them, and all is 
silent. Have they gone for others to complete the search, or 
to murder those already carried out ? 

Venturing at last below, as the stillness continued, I 
learned how favorable a turn affairs had taken, But though 
relieved for the moment, we were still in great anxiety, and in 
not a little peril. No one knew certainly what had become of 
J. The Colonel was greatly in need of immediate surgical 
attendance, and removal from the damp, chilly cellar. Our 
poor young soldier, too, was suffering much, both in mind and 
and body. He was a volunteer of a day's service only, and his 
first experience of civil war was very painful. The rioters 
might learn or suspect that they had been deceived; and return 
to the search. He could bear to be shot in open fight, but not 
to be so hunted down. Help seemed to him impossible. The 
whole military force in the city, he knew, was already detailed 



21 

on special duty, and none could be spared fur us. If tie 
rioters should come again nothing could save him: any further 
attempt at concealment would be worse than useless, and flight 
in his condition was impossible. 'We tried our best to cheer 
him. and to wait in patience, trusting to Him who had thus 
far kept us in safety. The weary hours dragged hea%i]y 
onward. My mother and myself still sat in the dark with our 
young soldier, while the other ladies attended to the Coloiel 
in the cellar. 

The continued absence of J. gave us now much uneasiness. 
A \ hat had become of him we could not conjecture. From time 
to time I looked out from my loop-hole in ihe front window. 
All was dark and desolate. Not a light in the opposite housts; 
not a person in sight but the men stationed before our house 
by the rioters. These marched hack and forth in silence while 
a large body were carousing about the old liquor stand. "Come 
on," I heard one call, ""and bring eight or ten with you!" 
They might come on again any moment, maddened with drink 
and disappointed vengeance. As time went on they grew 
more and more uproarious, singing, dancing, swearing and 
yelling. 

Anxious and troubled, I wandered from front to rear, now 
leaning out of the window to catch every movement without, 
and carrying back reports to my still more anxious and 
troubled soldier. 

It was now, we thought, past midnight. We had no hope 
of relief; no thought or .expectation but of struggling on alone 
hour after hour of distress and darkness, but as I was listen - 
in» in my window to some unusually threatening demonstra- 
tions from the mob, I heard the distinct clank of a horse's hoof 
on the pavement. Again and again it sounded, more and more 
distinctly, and then a measured tread reached my ears, the 
steady, resolute tramp of a trained and disciplined body. No 
music was ever half so beautiful! It might it must be, our 
soldiers! Off I flew to spread the good news through the 
household, and back again to the window to hear the tramp 
nearer and fuller and stronger, and see a long line of muskets 
gleam out from the darkness, and a stalwart body of men stop 



9.9 



at our door. '"Halt!" was cried; and I rushed down stairs 
headlong, unlocked the door without waiting for oiders, and 
with tears of joy and gratitude which every one can imagine 
and nobody describe, welcomed a band of radiant soldiers and 
policemen, and in the midst of them all who should appear but 
my brother, pale and exhausted, who had gotten to the house- 
top in some mysterious way and brought this gallant company 
to our rescue. 

There was no time for inquiries or felicitations. The 
wounded men were our lirst care. Our young soldier in his 
delight had hobbled to the stairway, and was borne down in 
triumph by his sympathizing comrades, while a larger company 
brought the Colonel from the cellar. A pitiful sight he was all 
bleeding and ghastly, shivering with cold and suffering great 
pain. Both soldiers were placed carefully in the carriage 
brought for their conveyance, and then we ladies were reqi test- 
ed to accompany them immediately. It was unsafe to remain 
in the house; soldiers could not be spared to protect it, and 
it was best for us to go at once to the Central Police Station. 

There was no time for deliberation or preparation, with 
two wounded men waiting. My mother was stowed away in 
a corner of the carriage, the other mother of the household 
perched up with the driver, and the remainder straggled along 
with my brother in various stages of dilapidation — seine with- 
out bonnets, and some without shawls, and some in the thinnest 
of muslins and slippers. My own clothes were locked up and 
the keys unattainable; so I snatched what I could and ran with 
the others. Our military escort soon brought us into subordi- 
nation. While we had been preparing, one of the two com 
panies had been lighting, and had utterly dispersed the mob 
on the corner; but this we had hardly noticed, so intendly had 
we been occupied. They were now ready to resume their 
march. YYe were formed into column with the utmost formal- 
ity and precision. One piece of artillery and one company of 
infantry preceded, and another of each followed the carriage, 
marching slowly and majestically along the middle of the 
street; while we ladies moved as slowly along the sidewalks, 
surrounded by officers, policemen, and newspaper reporters. 



23 

The change was so sudden, so unexpected, so magical, 
that it was difficult, to believe that we were really in the body. 
We, who bad been so lately in the depths of darkness and de- 
solation, were now encompassed by armed bands eager to help 
and serve us. Dangers, seen and unseen, were still around us; 
great fires illumined the southern sky; house, furniture, and 
clothing were left behind us unprotected, birt still we could 
only exult in the rescue of our haunted soldiers and our own 
blissful release from suspense and terror. Vi ith joyful hearts 
we followed our martial guard. This midnight flitting was 
full of romantic interest. The streets were silent and dark, 
lighted only by distant lurid names. Slowly and solemnly the 
long, black procession moved onward down the broad avenue, 
through narrow and winding streets, stopping only from time 
to time for wate/ for the wounded soldiers, or to scatter the 
foes lurking around us. Sometimes the skirmishers in advance 
charged out into the darkness, sometimes tired down the cross- 
streets, but no serious interruption occurred; and at last, after 
a weary march, the steady light of the Central Police Station 
gladdened our waiting eyes. 

All now was life and animation. W ell-dressed citizens 
were hurrying to and fro. Stalwart soldiers lined the street 
and guarded the steps and enhance, through which we were 
conducted to an inner apartment, and with much state and 
ceremony presented to the chieftains of civic power. Three 
days' experience of anarchy had made us feel the blessedness 
of lawful restraint, and surely no body of men ever looked so 
beautiful as these excecutives of law and government. Such 
fresh, radiant, energetic, clear-headed, and strong hearted 
leaders looked able to conquer all the rioters in the land. 
Every body was wide awake, dispatches coming and going, 
messengers flying about in all directions. 

We were received with great civility and offered every 
possible accommodation, but the best attainable were somewhat 
scanty. The two rooms had each a table, a writing desk, and 
a stack of arms, but no sofa or rocking-chair, no chance for 
napping or lounging. We saw at once that it was no resting 
place for us, and after a brief council resolved to follow the 



24 

fate of our Colonel: and so. leaving a spot which shines bright- 
ly in my remembrance, we continued our march to St. Nicholas 
Hotel, obtained admittance, ascended four llighis of slabs, 
parted with our kind and gentlemanly escort, and sat down to 
rest at half past two Thursday morning. 

Sleep was of course still impossible. The exciting scenes 
of the night, and the incessant roar arid -rumble of Broadway, 
all awake; and at four o'clock loud cheers brought us to the 
window to see the glorious returning "•Seventh"' marshaled be- 
fore us, and with all our hearts and voices we joined in the 
welcome which greeted them. A brighter morning dawned 
upon the city: other regiments had arrived in the night, and 
we knew that it was now safe. Broadway was busy and noisy. 
Business was resumed, and the mob much subdued, though 
still rampant in our old neighborhood. A reconnoissance 
showed that it was still unsafe to venture there. We passed 
the morning comparing notes and considering what to do with 
ourselves. My only desire was to quit the city— to beat a re- 
treat as soon as possible. Our quiet tour had been rudely in- 
terrupted, our plans and purposes brought to naught; we had 
suffered great fatigue and anxiety, and we were unwilling to 
stay a moment longer. It was humiliating to leave our lug- 
gage in the enemy's country; but what were clothes to rest and 
quiet ? A place for our heads was of more consequence than 
bonnets! Our friends were compelled to stay, but we could go ; 
and most happy were we, now that we were sure of their safe- 
ty, to improve that privilege. And so, at three o'clock on 
Thursday afternoon, just three days from our first glimpse of 
the rioters, we shook the dust of New York from our slippers, 
and, trunkles and bonnetless, sped up North River. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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